Victoria gamely smiled. “But of course. Am I to understand you aren’t finding it more conducive to compromise? I hear some of the sessions in Parliament are very noisy and I’d hoped you could enjoy a better ambience here.” If these men were going to almost come to blows at her dinner party, she was going to make them feel uncomfortable.
Shame crept into at least one pair of eyes. Alas, a commotion at the door disrupted them. Halston appeared and drew himself tall. “His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.”
All bodies in the room swiveled toward the double doors as Halston swept in the portly prince with a flourish of his hand.
Taviston and Victoria approached him as he surveyed the room. Her husband bowed and Victoria curtsied respectfully.
The prince’s eyes twinkled as they alighted on her husband. “Taviston! Haven’t seen you in ages, my dear fellow. But you’ve finally chosen a bride, eh? Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness. This is my duchess, Victoria.”
The man appeared perplexed for a moment and then finally glanced down toward Victoria.
“Ah, there you are, m’dear. Tiny thing, aren’t you? Not nearly enough flesh, if you know what I mean!” He chuckled loudly, amused with himself.
Bewildered by this odd statement, Victoria peeked at Taviston to judge his reaction, but he remained expressionless. However, Halston called them to dinner in that moment and the prince turned back toward the door muttering, “So soon?”
Taviston shrugged in confusion and rolled his eyes. A laugh escaped her and he turned and threw her a wink.
As they all filed down the hallway toward the dining room, Victoria sent up a small prayer. So far things had gone well, except for the small incident with the MPs. She hoped her luck would hold.
TAVISTON STUDIED THE guests around the dinner table. The dinner was going remarkably well, all things considered. He had expected the skirmish among the politicians. As for the rest of them, they were behaving—for now. Though the more the prince drank, the louder and more boorish he became. Taviston sensed that the Tory, Tressler, only waited for the royal to make a partisan remark and then he planned to pounce.
With a sigh, he tried to see past Lord Linslade and Lady Egham to view his wife. Due to the presence of the prince, she didn’t sit at the opposite end of the table. That honor belonged to Prinny. Victoria sat to the prince’s left, trying to charm the man, but he was much more interested in flirting with Mrs. Tressler, the woman on his right.
Taviston caught only glimpses of Victoria, but she radiated beauty and seemed to be relaxing more as the dinner wore on. Her gown of midnight blue glittered around the neckline and edge of her sleeves. He would have already complimented her on it if they had had even one minute alone.
The sudden clatter of silver on china brought everyone’s attention to the center of the table. They had been enjoying an entremets of plum pudding. Except, it seemed, for Lord Egham. With his face quite purple, his eyes bulging, and his tongue protruding, he made a distressing picture.
Halston and Victoria rushed to the man’s side at the same time. His hands began to convulse, and he managed to knock his cup of pudding into the air. It crashed back to the table, but most of the pudding splashed onto Victoria’s gown.
Lady Egham eyed her husband with an eerie calmness. “He must have eaten an almond. He does tend to have the most violent reaction to them.” She nodded at Halston. “Simply remove him from the table and supply him with a purgative. He will be right as rain soon enough.” She smiled widely and returned to her conversation with Lord Linslade.
After an uncertain glance around the room, Victoria summoned a footman over to assist Halston. They dragged the unlucky lord from the room while she mopped her gown as best she could.
As Victoria returned to her seat, Lady Southey questioned the room at large. “Whoever puts almonds in a plum pudding?”
Victoria, still looking uneasy about the health of Egham, nonetheless held her chin high. “Mrs. Baxter and I were attempting to make a more distinctive pudding.”
The men around the table ignored her and the ladies dismissed her comment. Mrs. Denton aimed a frosty glare at Taviston’s wife. “I was certain everyone knew Egham cannot tolerate almonds.”
That did it. They would not treat his Victoria this way.
“I did not know, Mrs. Denton.” Her shock satisfied him—momentarily. “Bedford, did you know about Egham’s intolerance for almonds?”
Startled out of his conversation with Gordon, the duke shook his head negatively.
Mrs. Denton flushed but managed a peevish, “Perhaps not the gentlemen, but the ladies of London are informed as to the matter.”
“Ah, well, my wife is new to London.” He searched out Lady Egham on the other side of the table. She needed to shoulder some blame here. “Lady Egham, why did you not inform my wife of your husband’s sensitivity?”
The young brunette reluctantly dragged her attention away from Linslade. She shrugged delicately. “I suppose I forgot.”
“I do hope he’ll be all right,” Victoria offered from the other side of Linslade.
“The almonds haven’t killed him yet,” Lady Egham mumbled. Then she favored the dashing Linslade with her conversation once more.
Halston returned, and he and the remaining footmen served the main course of roasted duck and lobster patties. The conversations, and behavior, of the guests at the table deteriorated and descended into chaos thereafter.
The prince finally made an uncomplimentary remark about the policies of the Tories and Tressler verbally attacked him, vehemently, yet with the respect due him. Hughes and Fenville, the Whigs, joined the argument, defending their party and their princely champion. Prinny left them to hash it out themselves and returned to flattering Mrs. Tressler, never mind that she was a Tory wife.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Denton and Lady Southey, noses pointed to the ceiling, kept a steady stream of caustic criticism flowing from their pinched mouths. The dukes of Gordon and Bedford, father-in-law and son-in-law, spoke tediously of horses, completely ignoring Mrs. Hughes, who sat between them.
But the most horrifying scene at the table occurred right next to Victoria. Taviston’s wife, as well as the duchesses of Gordon and Bedford, watched with matching appalled expressions as Lady Egham and Lord Linslade seduced each other.
Victoria, unconsciously leaning the other way, appeared to try to physically distance herself from the couple’s egregious behavior while also attempting vainly to distract Lord Linslade with conversation. Taviston locked eyes with her and didn’t doubt she experienced the same headache he did.
He focused on his plate. He hadn’t eaten a bite of any of the food served him so far tonight. Not because he feared it would be terrible, but because a part of him dreaded what he planned to do in a minute or so.
He glanced down the length of the table again. A stranger might think they had invited ill-mannered ruffians off the streets instead of high-born lords and ladies of society. Misery marred Victoria’s face. Now was the time.
As he pushed his chair back from the table every nerve in his body screamed for him to remain seated. A month ago, he would have listened. But now, now the whisper of his heart spoke even more loudly.
He stood—and accidentally caught the eye of Halston at the opposite end of the room. An encouraging smile unexpectedly shone on his butler’s ordinarily solemn face.
Taviston used his fork to tap the side of his wine glass. It took a good thirty seconds but eventually all eyes were on him, Mrs. Denton and Lady Southey looking especially disapproving. He ignored them.
“I have something I would like to say”—he paused while he found Victoria’s surprised blue eyes— “to my wife.”
He spoke softly. “I knew what I wanted in a wife and you were not it.” Small gasps echoed around the table and Victoria’s jaw fell slack. He held her gaze, refusing to allow her to look away. “Fortunately, someone more intelligent than I knew you were the wife I
needed. You have completely turned my life upside down and honestly, I have never enjoyed myself more, simply because you are with me.”
Gordon, the gruff old duke, interrupted. “Enough of this nonsense, Taviston. We all know yours is a love match. Do not subject us to this oversentimental drivel.”
Before Taviston could respond, the Prince of Wales spoke up. “Keep quiet, Gordon. I enjoy nothing better than a good love story.” He folded his plump hands across his belly and waited patiently for Taviston to continue.
Clearing his throat, Taviston focused on Victoria once again and saw in her eyes hope mixed with hesitation. “You are the perfect wife for me. I thank God—and Arthur—for bringing us together.” Though he couldn’t hear it at his end of the table, he knew she let a giggle slip, and his lips lifted in a smile. His wife. His duchess.
“I love you, Victoria, and there is no one, absolutely no one, I would rather have for my duchess.” His voice rang solid and true through the dining room.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the sparkle in her eyes might have been unshed tears.
“Let’s have a toast,” the prince proposed as he raised his glass. Taviston followed the others and snared his wine goblet as well. “To his duchess,” Prinny said with a nod.
“To his duchess!” they all echoed.
Taviston sat back down and immediately everyone returned to their previous conversations. The meal continued and Victoria stared at her plate. She looked his way once, giving him a smile with trembling lips. He took that as a positive sign—he was still a fool in love—and silently raised his glass to her. She did the same and then returned her attention to the dessert she wasn’t eating.
Only another two hours or so before their guests left.
Chapter Thirty-Two
At just past one in the morning, Lord Egham, somewhat recovered, was bundled out to his carriage with his disgruntled wife, the last guests to leave. Halston closed the door with a solid finality. Victoria breathed a huge sigh of relief and heard Taviston, who stood behind her, do the same.
She hesitated a moment as she remembered his speech. She couldn’t believe what he had said. At the dinner table, no less. In front of people they barely knew.
With a smile she turned to comment on that fact and discovered Taviston disappearing down the back hallway. Her smile immediately fell away. Where was he going? They had so much to talk about.
Halston had disappeared as well. A shiver-inducing chill swept across her body. Had Taviston’s declaration of love been merely another attempt at hiding the true reason for their marriage from Society? Was he worried about the scandal coming to light after all? Suddenly deprived of all energy, Victoria moved into the dark morning room and collapsed onto a chair.
No, Taviston would never be so cruel. His sweet words had filled her half-empty soul with hope and she had spent the remainder of the evening in almost complete distraction. But now he was gone without so much as a “good night.”
The party had gone badly. Perhaps disastrously was more the word. Was he upset? Or just plain mortified?
She had to speak with him. No more skirting the subject. With a bolt of newfound energy Victoria leapt up and almost collided with Halston.
“Your Grace.” Halston extended a lush red rose toward her. “If you will accompany me, please.”
Hope slowly poured back into her drained soul. Inhaling the sweet fragrance of the flower, she dutifully followed Halston down the hall and tried to calm her heart as he led her through the library and out onto the terrace.
The refreshing night air restored her to complete vigor. She surveyed the back garden. Most of it lay in darkness and shadow, but a glow of light emanated from one corner.
“Here you are, ma’am,” Halston said as he handed her a lantern. He indicated another rose lying on the ground. “Follow the flowers.”
“Thank you, Halston,” she whispered.
She floated down the steps of the terrace and picked up the next red rose. The lantern created eerie shadows on the darkened garden path, but she hardly noticed. Collecting the roses, she counted them so as to keep herself from running pell-mell to the gazebo in the corner. Soon she could hardly carry all of them. By the time she entered the clearing her arms were laden with thirty-four de-thorned roses. The exact number of days that had passed since she had first met Taviston on the street.
As she looked up at the gazebo, her muscles went lax and the flowers spilled to the ground. Candles placed around the railing bathed the white and yellow structure in a soft, dreamy light. Taviston stood in the center, Arthur sitting proudly by his side.
Lifting her skirts, she skipped joyfully up the steps and without thought launched herself at Taviston. He unhesitatingly opened his arms and caught her up in a tight embrace while her feet dangled in the air. She kept her eyes locked on his but knew without looking around that pink rose petals were scattered everywhere—the scene was set exactly as she had described it the night she’d spun her proposal tale to the ton.
He beamed the biggest and brightest smile she had yet seen. She kissed him loudly and then wriggled her way down to the floor, speaking quickly before he could.
“Before you say anything else, it’s my turn.” His smile had vanished, and he nodded. “I did not marry you because you are a duke, though I did try to tell myself that was the reason. Actually, I married you in spite of your being a duke.” Taviston quirked an eyebrow at her statement. “I think it’s more than evident from the last five hours that I have no business being a duchess.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she raised her hand and silenced him. “No. Bother, I’m not saying any of this very well. Let me put it more simply.” She looked into his grey, smoky eyes. “I love you, Taviston. I truly love you and that is the only reason I married you. Behind your staid and proper façade, you are everything I ever wanted in a man.”
A wide grin spanned his face once again. “Well, that makes this much, much easier,” he said mysteriously while dropping to one knee and reaching for her hand.
“Taviston, what are you doing?”
“Victoria, you are the one for me. I can see that clearly now. I cannot imagine spending the rest of my days, let alone even one day, without you. Will you marry me?”
“We are already married.”
“Not properly.”
“It doesn’t get much more proper than St. George’s Church on a Saturday, during the Season, with much of Society looking on.”
Heaving a huge sigh, he hung his head. “Will you just answer the question?”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Here her sweet husband was attempting to be romantic and she was trying to ruin it with practicalities. Poor man. She tugged on his hand until he raised his head, so she might look him in the eye.
“Yes, yes, I will marry you.”
“Meow,” Arthur affirmed.
Taviston rose up and gathered her into his arms, kissing her soundly on the lips. “Excellent. I don’t know about you, but I did not much enjoy the ceremony at St. George’s.”
“Me neither,” she whispered while drawing his head down for another kiss.
After a moment he withdrew his lips, kissed the top of her head and hugged her close. “I apologize for bringing this up now, but we haven’t had a chance to speak all day. Did Louisa tell you anything when you confronted her this afternoon?”
She hugged him tighter. “She still wouldn’t talk. Her secret motive is all she has left.”
“Jealousy, perhaps?”
“Maybe. She certainly tried to keep me from marrying.” She tilted her head back. “Those horrible gowns she made me wear! You should have run. I am clothed better now, but I still seem to always end up looking ridiculous.” She swept her hands down her pudding-stained gown.
Taviston smiled. “You look perfect to me.”
She couldn’t stop herself. “Do you really love me?”
“I wouldn’t have declared myself in front of those nitwits if I didn’t.” A
grimace supplanted his smile and he muttered, “I will never hear the end of it from Dunne.”
Victoria couldn’t help grinning. “You were extraordinarily romantic. Thank goodness you never showed your true nature to the rest of the unmarried ladies. One of them would surely have fallen for you long ago.”
He gave his head a quick jerk from side to side. “I never wanted any of them to know me. But you, I couldn’t resist sharing myself with you. In fact, I don’t think I could have stopped myself. The truth finally hit me Sunday. I was coming to tell you when I discovered you packing to leave.” He shifted his eyes briefly to the dancing flames of the candles. “How ever did you know I had questioned your ability?”
She cast her eyes down. “I overheard Peyton speaking to you that afternoon.”
Directing her chin back up, he asked, “When we were in the billiards room? How could you have misunderstood me?” Endearing puzzlement crept into his eyes. “I was explaining to Peyton how my opinion of you had changed so much since we first met.”
“Yes, well, I only heard Peyton’s part of the conversation and so...”
Taviston kissed her. “I am truly sorry I ever thought such horrible things about you, Victoria. I didn’t know you then—and I didn’t want to because you did not fit the image I had of my ideal bride. I never meant to hurt you.”
She pulled away. “Why apologize? You were completely right. That had to be the worst dinner party of all time.”
“Not true at all. Now, if Egham had died, I might allow you to say that, but since he didn’t...”
“Taviston!”
He smiled and closed the gap between them. “No, it wasn’t the social event of the year, but you did many things right, my dearest. Your mistake lay in not asking for help.” He hushed her with a finger on her lips. “I know. You were trying to prove yourself. I knew offering any assistance would only irritate you even more. But you can’t expect to know everything right from the beginning. No one does. My mother no doubt could have told you about Egham and the almonds. I could have warned you about the fierce rivalry of those MPs and Jane is probably aware of the affair going on between Lady Egham and Lord Linslade.”
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